


that we two might be one

by manbunjon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Wedding Night, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 16:51:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16499108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manbunjon/pseuds/manbunjon
Summary: She was surprised at the taste of him, the way his skin tasted almost salty as she laved her tongue across his belly, following every ridge of muscle as they tightened beneath his skin.





	that we two might be one

**Author's Note:**

> requested by _[anonymous](http://oberynmartell.tumblr.com/post/179694627480)_

She was surprised at the taste of him, the way his skin tasted almost salty as she laved her tongue across his belly, following every ridge of muscle as they tightened beneath his skin. She had already laid a path of kisses across his neck and chest, her lips so feather-light against his bare flesh that she had felt him shiver. 

Sansa had already kneeled before him, already seen his eyes draw wide with startled ardour as she undid the laces of his oppressive breeches. She had felt him growing stiff against her belly from the moment she had kissed him, her husband having pulled her body flush against his. 

All that remained of her wedding gown was the shift she had worn beneath, the white cotton so thin that even from across the room he had been able to see the outline of each pert breast. During the bedding ceremony she had been undressed by the bawdy hands of their guests, lifted onto their shoulders and plied with wine and ribald jokes, before she was set down before their wedding chamber and ushered inside. 

Sansa knew that Jon had already been carried forth, having watched him disappear from their feasting table, dragged away by the maidens that had grown giddy with the notion of undressing him. 

During her own perilous journey she had spotted the trail of discarded clothes that led from the feast to their chambers and as she met him at the chamber, found he had been left only with his breeches and a single boot- though she could see that some maiden’s bawdy hand had tried to undo the laces she had claimed as her own. 

He had smiled at her from across the room, his cheeks flushed and pink as he looked upon her, torn between the desire to preserve her dignity and the need to study every inch of her beautiful form until he had it memorized. 

The fervorous lust in the air had been palpable; the way his eyes were steady on hers, flush with heat and deep, longing glances. At his sides his hands had balled into fists to keep from reaching for her. 

Sansa had been unable to abide the vast space standing between them any longer and crossed the chamber, surprised to find he strode toward her. Their bodies clashed halfway through the room, all grasping hands and lashing tongues. She had not cared who remained on the other side of the door or who intently listened from the floors below. She had cared only for him, had only wanted him. 

Her fingers carded through his dark curls, guiding his inexperienced tongue as it ran across her bottom lip, the warmth of his breath making gooseflesh pepper her skin. His palm cupped her breast through her shift, the warmth of his hand making her breath ragged as his thumb passed across her nipple.

The shift came undone with a single pull of the short lace. The cloth parted and slipped down across her shoulders with agonizing slowness. Jon could only stare, watching as each small breast spring forth, each nipple freed from the prison of cloth as her body was at once offered to him. 

His hands were warm as they slid across her back and he found himself on his knees as his body began to act suddenly of its own accord. He kissed her stomach, ran his tongue along the circle of her proffered navel, traveled the length of each bare hipbone before its attentions returned to her chest. Her breasts were slight under his palms, softer than any silk he had ever known, and he could practically taste the sweetness of her pebbled nipples as they swirled around his tongue.

She tipped her head back and removed the pearl pins one by one until her auburn hair fell free from its plait, falling over her back like licks of flame. He buried his face into it, inhaling the sweet jasmines and lavenders of her bathing oils, and he could feel her body as it pressed into his. 

Sansa’s hands pushed over his bare shoulders, feeling the tight sinew of muscle as it contracted under her cold palms. She slid her fingers through the thatch of dark curls at the base of his chest and soon began to kiss the path her fingers had traveled. 

It was her turn to requite the attentions he had paid her. She grew bold, biting down upon the firm muscle of his breast and he gasped, in shock at the sudden sharpness of her teeth and at the unrestrained pleasure of the sensation. It seemed to bounce through him before settling low in his belly like unregulated heat, his nervousness having uncoiled and dissipated from the moment he had first laid eyes upon her. 

Her fingers worked at the laces of his breeches and he felt the fabric sliding low on his hips before falling to his ankles. Her teeth dragged down the length of his bare hip, so close to his aching cock that he could have spent right there, just at the sight of her kneeling before him. 

He rejoined the kiss that had been broken, claiming her mouth with all the ferocity of the wolf he was. She moaned into his mouth and he swallowed the sound, reaching down to lift her body into his arms so that he might carry her to the featherbed. 

Jon pushed aside the furs as though they were meaningless and set her down before him, watching as her legs bracketed his hips, as her thighs parted to allow he lay between them. Her skin was pale and marked only by gooseflesh, the burning candle at the bedside casting a heavenly glow upon her as she lay before him, writhing like an unbroken mare. 

“Sansa.” he uttered, his breath fanning out across her sweat dappled flesh. 

He could feel the wetness that awaited him between her thighs. His heart pounded, the way her body fit against his proper as glove to hand, as though the Gods had formed them only for this purpose. His cock twitched with want, the pleasure of her company stronger than it had ever been when he palmed himself off with his own hand.

Her blunt fingernails sank into the skin of his arse and he cried out in pain and pleasure, watching as his wife guided him to the crook between her legs. Jon pushed into her and felt her body go rigid beneath him. 

“Are you hurt?” he whispered, his tongue drawing across the length of her jaw. She could feel the writhing of his muscles as he struggled with control, guiding himself gently between her parted thighs and holding himself steady so as not to crush her. 

“No, my love.” Sansa assured and sealed her words with a hot kiss. 

Her cold toes stroked the backs of his legs as his hips rocked against hers, the feeling of her body so tight against his making him choke out a gasp. She did not mind the heaviness of his body and took only pleasure from the contact, preening beneath him like a cat desiring to stretch in the sun.

Sansa could feel the restraint of his body, the forceful hold he held over himself and took his arms, crooking them at the elbow so that his body was brought down upon hers. She moaned at the closeness between them, feeling every breath he took, the way his heart hammered against his chest.

Jon released the tension of his body and at once sunk against her, the sudden unrestrained pressure of his hips pushing him deeper inside of her. She exclaimed in pleasure, her back arching until it rose nearly off the mattress, and with her pretty breasts so close to his face he could not resist the draw of kissing them.

One of her hands curved around to his lower back and the other wandered the length of his body, stroking, touching, twisting, gripping. It was nearly unbearable, the desperation for release growing unendurably high as he rocked against her. 

He was growing messy, his movements half wild as he danced the balance between desperation and restraint. Sansa looked upon him, her blue eyes dancing with mirth as the tip of her tongue brushed between his parted lips. She pushed back on his shoulders and at once he was still, watching as she shifted beneath him. In a moment she had guided him onto his back, her legs akin to his hips so that she could sit in his lap. 

Jon saw spots before his eyes, his head thrown back against the pillows, his eyes squeezed shut as he was overcome by the sudden burst of pleasure. She balanced herself upon the strong muscle of his thighs, her hips rocked forth against his. Jon gritted his teeth to keep from roaring like an animal. 

His free hand moved from her hips to her breast, pressing her nipple just slightly between thumb and forefinger, his eyes watching as her face contorted with the pleasure of it all. 

He could feel the need of release building until it threatened to spill over, the hand he held against her hip so tight he was afraid it might leave bruises. 

Her back arched like a bowstring being drawn and she let out a moan half muffled by his kiss. Pleasure slammed into her like a strike, coursing through her body in ways she had never known, and he could feel her tighten against him. 

Within the space of a single breath he had met his peak, gasping so loudly that he was sure the feast below them had been brought to a sudden halt as he spilled within her. Above him her body was so warm and smooth that for a moment he was too boneless, too sated, even to turn, and as she laid upon his chest in total collapse he could still feel his cock twitch within her. 

“Jon.” she whispered, feeling his fingers twist through her hair as he brushed it free from her brow. She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, too fatigued even to lift her head and seek his lips. They lay together for what seemed to be hours, replete, caring little for the bawdy roars that arose from below or the stomping feet outside the door.

They might as well have stood at the end of the earth, for he could only see her.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!! This was my version of the Outlander wedding night!


End file.
